The Music Book
by Lady Inu13
Summary: He and a shadowy cellist would play well into the night, back and forth, a battle between violin and cello. It was the same person, the same cello, and so he waited every night to speak a language older than words to this enigmatic player.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Forgive me for not submitting anything for the past... year? And also, forgive me for being a complete jerk in my last fanfic (ECSL).

If I owned Naruto, I wouldn't be writing fanfics, now would I? Um, this is my third Sakura-Gaara fanfiction, which I hope will not be longer than five chapters, but more than two. Here, they are not ninjas. Just everyday people living ordinary lives.

Things that seem unclear will eventually be explained, just remind me what it is you want me to explain. Please, if you read, please review. Any and almost all reviews will be treated with gratitude. Thank you.

Oh, and this chapter is dedicated to my friend, and fellow violinist, AnimeSenko.

* * *

He walked into the tiny café, seeking refuge in the quiet atmosphere and coffee smell after wandering the streets at seven o'clock at night, in the frigid winter air. Taking the table at the back, he pulled out a book titled Sun Tsu and the Art of War from under his arm. Not too long after he had gotten comfortable, a woman came to him for his order. He looked up from his book.

She was a petite thing, perhaps a year or two younger than himself, and had bright eyes that spoke too much of inexperience in the real world. Her green blouse was unbuttoned all the way, revealing a camisole that revealed almost too much cleavage. Her apron was slightly askew, and her black pants clung a bit too much. At the moment, she was fumbling around herself, patting herself down for a pen. He gave her the one that he had tucked away in his jacket. Her gaze snapped up at the simple gesture with a confused look, and then smiled at him, although not looking at him once.

"Thank you," she said, taking the pen from him. Her nametag said Sakura, quite fitting for her messy bun of rosette hair. Finally composed, she asked him, "Are you ready, sir?"

Indeed, he was ready. Ready to puke at the absolute innocence that radiated off of her. But, he didn't say that. "A venti green tea latte."

"Anything else?" she asked as she wrote the order down.

"No."

"I'll be back with your drink." She began walking away from his table before realizing she stole his pen and hurried back to lay it on the table. "Gomenasai," she mumbled before rushing off again. He glanced up at this before re-engrossing himself into his book.

A few minutes later, she came back with the steaming drink in hand. Only after she set the cup in front of him did she actually look at him for the first time. His hands looked smooth—perhaps smoother than hers. The red turtleneck did nothing but exaggerate how wiry the man before her was, let alone the rings around his eyes, which clued her in on how often he slept. She noticed quickly how fast his jade eyes were skimming across the pages of his book, and her eyes widened at the shadow of a tattoo on his forehead, mostly obscured by messy red hair that begged for a comb. His hand snaked out for his drink and as he sipped, he looked up at Sakura, who was still studying him.

"Is there a problem, Sakura?" he asked rather gruffly, taking slight offense to her stare.

"Er, no, no." she said, flustered. "I was just wondering where you found your book. I've been looking for it in all the bookstores, and they've all been sold out..."

"I've had this book for a long time." He pointedly resumed his reading, and Sakura, mildly embarrassed, went back to work. Two hours, another latte, and many pages of his book later, the café was empty, and she came back to him.

"I'm sorry, but I'm closing up shop now." She smiled apologetically, and he regarded her with blank eyes.

"Of course." He placed the money he owed on the table, put on his jacket, and walked out of the door.

Sakura stared after her very silent customer, finally getting up to lock the door, turn off the lights, and head upstairs to the apartment above her shop.

* * *

The man kept walking along the lit sidewalks until he came to his apartment building, a good half an hour's walk away. The doorman greeted him with a nod, but the man continued inside without response. Up to the thirtieth floor, he continued, where his penthouse awaited him. 

After a scalding shower and a cup of coffee, the red-head unpacked a very old violin case, inside, a Stradivarius. He unwrapped the four hundred year old instrument with reverence, set it on his shoulder, and drew the bow across a string, letting the sound reverberate around him. He frowned. The note was off, too flat, most likely because of the cold temperature. He sighed, beginning the slightly tedious task of tuning the old violin. When the strings were the correct pitch, he began playing a lullaby, a song that haunted his childhood. As he played, he walked out to the balcony, where he changed pieces to something more lamenting and beautiful.

Somewhere in the distance, someone accompanied the piece with the cello part, the sound mellow and barely audible to him. He picked up the sound of this anonymous cello and smirked. At the end of this song, he began a faster song, one meant for two violins to play, but the cello kept up, playing the second violin's part to perfection, with improvisations during the times when the specified notes were too high for a cello's range. The man, acknowledging the skill of this mysterious player, bowed his head, although he highly doubted he or she could see him. He went back inside his apartment, got himself another cup of coffee, and listened as the cello continued to play, occasionally joining in pieces he recognized.

Around eleven thirty, the cello's music stopped, and once more, the violinist frowned. It had been this way for the past year; he and this shadowy cellist would play well into the night, back and forth, likened to a battle of wit or a dance of skill. When he played in the day, however, he could not hear anything except his own instrument, and thus never found his playing partner. A few times, he thought he heard the cellist from an open window, but as he came upon them, the music was from a stereo. But he knew, that at night, it was the same person, the same cello, for no distant stereo could replicate any instrument's sound completely. And so the man waited every night to speak a language older than words to this enigmatic partner, hoping they would finally meet by some twist of fate.

* * *

A/N: A Stradivarius is a top-quality violin made by Antonio Stradivari between 1650-1700. A genuine Stradivarius can be worth millions of dollars, and the sound of one is supposed to be absolutely beautiful, as in making a stuck up music expert weep. I had Gaara own one so as to impart some violinists culture, seeing as I am a violinist myself.

Well, I am going to shut up now, and let you hopefully click on the review button.

-Lady Inu13


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here is another chapter that I whipped out. Not much music this time, I apologize, but definitely more development of the plot. I think Gaara is a bit too talkative here, but what the hell. I thank my reviewers-I really appreciate the feedback. This chapter is dedicated to you.

Sexyinumama-It is because there are not that many music related fanfictions (excluding song-fics) that I write this story. I hope you are not addicted to this to the point that if I do not post, you will have withdrawals.

Kura-chan-Even though you cannot learn the violin, be sure to keep music a part of you. Trust me, I haven't played for a few years, but the music in my soul keeps playing.

Bloodied Sand-I know my way around a cello myself, even though violin is my first instrument, and am glad that someone can appreciate it first hand. Perhaps one day, you and I will meet because of music.

Love of Midoriko-Here is more.

sakurablossomx5796-Please don't take out your sorrow on your instrument. Love it and take care of it, and perhaps one of your decendants will learn how to play the cello.

I am shutting up now. Without further ado, Chapter 2

* * *

The violinist looked sideways from Paradise Lost as the phone rang at five o'clock in the morning. He frowned, his eyes narrowing, as he willed the phone to stop interrupting him. It was bad enough he realized he had lost Sun Tsu and the Art of War the other night; he didn't need another reason to have a screwed up attitude. Unfortunately for the red-head, the phone did not stop, and instead of throwing it across the room like he wanted to, the man answered it. "Speak," he commanded.

"Gaara, don't talk that way to me! I'm your sister for kami's sake! Show a little respect for me!" His sister's voice filtered through the speaker's low volume so loudly, Gaara had to hold the phone at arm's length before he would go deaf.

"What do you want, Temari? I've had a long night." The red-head sighed.

"Oh, you always have a long night. Always. Even as a baby. Anyways, there's a gig for you at the Jasmine Dragon. A cotillion, from what I've gathered. I'm friends with one of the directors, and she said she's been looking for a violinist 'cause she already had a violist, cellist, and bassist on call. You're gonna be paid eight hundred dollars for the evening, plus access to all the things the guests will. Aren't you writing this down?" Temari paused for a minute, knowing her brother was trying to make a pen work for him.

"Yeah, go ahead." Gaara said, tearing off a random piece of envelope on his kitchen island.

"It's on the twenty fourth at 5:30 to 8:00. Here, I'll give you the number of the bass player. That's all I could snag off of Ino before she ran off on more business." Gaara heard his sister rummaging around before giving him the phone number. "Um… the guy's name is Uzumaki."

The man's eyes widened a fraction in recognition. "I've already got it. Good bye." He hung up the phone before his sister could yell at him about properly saying good bye. He then scrolled through his phone book and selected the correct number to call. The phone rang twice before someone answered it.

"He-hello?" a decidedly timid female voice answered.

"Who is this? Put Naruto on the phone." He plopped into an armchair and propped his feet on the glass coffee table. Gaara heard a faint conversation on the other end of the phone and rolled his eyes.

"N-Naruto-kun, w-wake up please."

"Noooo, Hinataaaa, I'm sleeping," Naruto's speech slurred by sleep.

"B-but someone called f-for you."

"'Lo?" Naruto answered the phone groggily.

"When's rehearsal? We're working together on the twenty fourth." Gaara said, not bothering to use the formalities of normal phone conversations again.

"Oh, that! Hi Gaara! Yeah, we're practicing today and the twenty third at two, my place. Okay?"

"Hn." Gaara hung up the phone, took a shower and put on a black collared shirt and slacks. After two hours on his violin, he put on his black overcoat and headed downstairs. Now that he knew what was going on, he would take care of business, like getting back his book. It was eight thirty. Surely that café was open.

--

Speaking of that café, its owner, Haruno Sakura, had come down from her flat at seven am so as to clean the little store before opening, and baking pastries to go along with the drinks. At seven fifteen, her industrial sized ovens were filled with about twenty trays of different cookies, scones, muffins, and donuts. She had her sleeves rolled up and was elbow deep in dishwater, when she noticed a smallish red book sitting on one of the tables furthest from the door. She walked over, drying her hands on her apron, and flipped it over. "Hn. Sun Tsu and the Art of War…"

It belonged to that quiet guy from last night. She looked at the cell phone that hung from her waist. It was only seven thirty eight. After she emptied out the ovens, she might as well start reading, seeing as she's been looking for the very same book for a while. She read the inscription on the front page—_Gaara, fight only for yourself. –Yashamaru_

"So your name is Gaara, huh?" she murmured as she continued reading. An hour passed, and she was a decent ways into the book, before she realized she had to open up shop. As she unlocked the door, he appeared.

"My book?" He said, stepping across the threshold, pushing against a slightly dazed Sakura to get inside. She held the book behind her and smiled at him.

"May I help you?" He looked at her unimpressed and reiterated himself.

"My book."

"Please, take a seat. I'll retrieve it from the counter and bring us both drinks. What would you like?" Sakura asked, walking away. He made his way to the nearest table, hung his jacket and overcoat on the back of his chair, and answered.

"The same as I had last night, if it is not too much to ask," he mumbled the last part, "for you to remember…"

"What was that?" Sakura had a hand on the coffee machine, trying, and failing, to reach the mixes sitting on top of it. "Green tea latte, right?" Gaara quickly strode over to help, irritated at her lack of proper placement planning. From right behind her, he easily plucked the pouch for his drink up and dropped it on the counter.

"Which one do you want?" he asked, his voice rumbling in his chest. Sakura's cheeks turned a faint pink—quite understandable, because she was practically pushed against a counter by a man she hardly knew.

"Cappucino," she managed to keep her own voice in a semblance of calm. He went back to his table, and after a few moments, she did too, bringing the two hot drinks and his book with her. "Erm, Gaara-kun, I read a bit of your book, and it intrigues me. He says 'There is no instance of a country that benefited from a prolonged war.' What does he mean? Warring countries have growing economies."

Gaara, taken aback from this woman's forward and unabashed demeanor, grasped at a rebuttal. "Well, Sakura, their economies are only large because everything is going into the war effort." She said nothing, so he continued. "People have jobs because they are either fighting or manufacturing things used by the fighters. After the war, what happens to the country? There is no need for weapons or surplus food, so the people involved in those businesses end up laid off. The land goes into depression. Plus, whichever country's land was fought on would then be riddled with wartime leftovers, like mines and shrapnel."

At eight forty eight, the bell on the front door rang to signal a customer, and then another, and another, bringing both people's attention away from their conversation. Sakura's lips formed a small pout. "Shoot. I nearly forgot the breakfast rush…" She hurried behind the counter, leaving Gaara to his reclaimed book. After half an hour without reprieve, though, he noticed a drained look on her face. While Sakura had her back turned, he brought his belongings behind the counter, grabbed an apron he saw hanging from one of the shelves and stood at the register. She bumped into him as she brought up the order she was working on, and gave him a questioning look.

"Might as well," he shrugged, handing her a cup with an order on it. She tilted her head to the side for a split second, and smiled, nodding gratefully. Another half an hour later, the crowd had dispersed, and Sakura sat on the counter as he placed the last bit of money in the register.

"Thank you," she said.

* * *

A/N: Sun Tsu and the Art of War is indeed a real book, as is Paradise Lost. As you can see, Gaara is very withdrawn, keeping to his books and violin; practically forgetting the fundamentals of spoken courtesy. I think I've built upon the Shippuden version of Gaara. Also, I had to throw in a bit of Naruto-Hinata. I just had to.

Well, I am going to cease talking, so as to let you hopefully click on the review button.

-Lady Inu13


	3. Chapter 3

Sexyinumama: I play violin, ukulele, and a bit of cello.

katieoso: No, no, you're not crazy, but my reasoning for adding the bass and excluding the 2nd violin is because 2nd violin is merely the 1st part dumbed down most of the time, or in other cases, the viola part altered for the violin to play. But yes, a traditional stringed quartet is two violins, a viola, and cello.

Rainstar148: Sadly, I am in the same boat as you. I have no motivation either.

whines Senko-chan, Gaara's not a cellist!!! he's a violinist!!!

Anyway, i apologize for being late and short, but here is a chapter to hold you over. I am so sorry... I'll explain why next chapter. Review, please!

* * *

Chapter 3

One o'clock found Sakura staring at Gaara's back while she made another batch of cookie dough. He knelt down to grab a large metal cup from under the counter, turned to his left to get milk out of the mini fridge, and put it in the cup to steam it. She realized his movements were surer than hers, more fluid, precise, and deliberate. She wondered if he were some sort of dancer, since he never seemed to waste a movement. He turned around after he had served the customer he was dealing with, and met her eyes with his.

"Sakura-san, I have to go. I have an appointment elsewhere," he said as he untied the apron around his waist. He retrieved his belongings and started for the door.

"Gaara-kun, wait!" she called to the red haired man as she ran after him. He looked back at her with impassive eyes. "Would you like a job here? I'm running this place by myself, and I realized it's nice to have help, and you don't have to be here all the time. I'd pay you for any time you decide to work," she finished breathlessly.

Gaara merely nodded and shrugged into his coat as he left. "I'll think about it."

* * *

He arrived back home to fetch his violin and headed for Naruto's place. It was a fair ways away. Through the park to the subway, and get off at Eighth Street, about a forty-five minute journey. He walked up the stairs to the front door, knocked, and waited for someone to open the door. 

"H-Hi, Gaara-kun. P-please, come inside." Hinata lead him further into the house and took his coat. "Naruto-kun is in the studio. This way," she said, bringing Gaara into the basement.

"Oi, Gaara!" Naruto yelled, trying to bring his friend into a noogie. Gaara merely sidestepped him and let the blond fall against the stairs.

"So where is the fourth?" the violinist asked, seeing as there were only three people in the room.

"Oh, the cellist? Yeah, she can't make it to practice. She has work other than this." Naruto said, picking himself up and going to his bass. "We have to go on without her. Come on, your part is on that stand. This is the only piece Tsunade requested for the gig. We can choose to play whatever else."

"Hn." Gaara took out his instrument and brought it up to his chin so he could tune it. As he did, Naruto began to finger out his part, and Hinata practiced a few scales. "Alright," Gaara said, finally looking over the papers in front of him. Naruto nodded, and tapped Hinata on the shoulder—she was playing with her eyes closed.

"Okay, you guys ready?" Naruto asked, setting himself up once again. The other two looked at him expectantly. "Alright, let's play." Gaara had to start off, and the violin sang sweet and true beneath his bow. The beginning solo was slow, slightly slower than a walking pace, but as soon as Hinata's viola joined five measures in, the song picked up a bit of speed. Three measures after, Naruto jumped in with his deep-sounding bass and the piece felt complete, except for the missing cello part. Gaara's eyes narrowed in distaste. Whoever this cellist was, she had better have a good excuse to have missed practice. "Hun, you're playing a bit flat!" Naruto called to Hinata. She adjusted accordingly.

"Naruto, you're rushing." Gaara said loudly to the blond man. Naruto slowed down a bit, and the red head nodded approvingly. "Better."

The song lasted for about six minutes and thirty seven seconds, and when they had finished, Gaara frowned. "That's it?"

"Yeah, we already play well together, so that's it! Besides, you sound like you don't even need to be here. It's just me'n Hinata here who gotta work hard," Naruto winked at his girlfriend, and she turned away, pink. "C'mon, the only reason I called you here anyway, Gaara, is because you hardly get out of that penthouse of yours. Let's go get ramen, ne?"

"No. Goodbye, Naruto." Gaara dipped his head in acknowledgement to Hinata and left, pausing only to put away his violin, grab his copy of the song, and shrug on his coat. The violet-haired woman ran out after him and pressed a small, warm bundle into his hands.

"Here," she said, drawing back to hug herself in an effort to keep warm against the biting air. "I thought you would like to eat something different from what you usually cook for yourself." She smiled and ran back into her house, leaving Gaara to stare into his palm, puzzled. He took a sniff at the package, and smelled pumpkin and cinnamon. He slipped it into his pocket and headed home.

* * *

That night, Gaara went out on his balcony to play his violin and heard the cello already playing. It was a different tune tonight. Sad, but upbeat; something he had never played before, but had heard maybe twice before. He could imagine the cellist's fingers gracefully fingering the strings, possibly rocking his or her entire body with the music. It was no wonder if the cellist did. The song moved even Gaara's inexpressive heart, and the violinist was shocked when he realized his heart thumped wildly in his chest just from hearing the cello's playing. 

Gaara shouldered his Stradivarius and played a measure of a different song to let the cellist know he was there. The cello stopped, seemingly awaiting orders as to the song Gaara wanted to play. The jade-eyed man decided to play a well-known song, and soon the cellist picked up. It seemed to fit. The moon was full, and the stars twinkled overhead playfully. Fly Me to the Moon resonated into the air, and drifted away into the night, played by the duo that was so familiar to each other, but still so very alien.

The red head stopped playing after that song and went inside for a cup of coffee. He didn't want to continue tonight. He looked to the package that Hinata had given to him earlier today and opened it. There were pumpkin spice muffins inside. Gaara took a bite, and let the taste linger in his mouth. Perhaps he should have Hinata meet Sakura some time... Hinata made some great muffins.


	4. Chapter 4

To my readers: Forgive me for not updating sooner. I've been busy with my high school graduation in May as well as the education system known as community college. I imagine it doesn't sound like much of an excuse, but it is the truth.

Sexyinumama: Yes, ukulele is very fun! They're just very hard to find on mainland USA. As soon as a shipment is delivered to a music shop, it's already gone. I should know... It's taken me a while to find a replacement, but it was time well spent. I could have asked my family in Hawaii to send me one because there are so many, but I was afraid the little instrument would break during the shipping.

Suck-a-Butt: Don't worry, I'm not offended at all by your penname. And don't think I've been so lucky with my violin. I've had my fair share of very, ah... _incompetent _instructors. As long as you enjoy your flute, there's nothing to be jealous about. On a side note, onee of my little sisters has begun flute this year.

Kinky-Nami-Lass: I've taken this story as a chance to break free of the traditions and go to something with a little more depth. I'm glad you like it.

Love of Midoriko, Rainstar148, forsaken13, Queen of the Damned, goblin-queen-of-the-opera, and WiNi WiNeZ, thank you for your comments. I hope you enjoy this installment of The Music Book. Your patience is greatly appreciated, dear readers. Please continue to bear with me until the completion of this story and beyond. Thank you very much. Without further ado, here is chapter four.

* * *

Chapter 4

Once again, morning broke with Gaara lounging around his flat with a book spread open across his lap and a mug of coffee on the end table beside him. This time, however, the book was Angels and Demons, and it presented, or rather re-exposed, the idea of double meanings and coincidences. He tore his gaze away from the book and suddenly things in his mind made a little bit of sense. Naruto said the cellist that would be working with them at the Jasmine Dragon was not only skilled enough to not need to practice, but was a female and held a day job. Now if the cellist he played with at night was indeed this missing person of the quartet, that would explain why he never heard her play during the day.

"Interesting," he mumbled, taking a sip of coffee. "So if I am correct, I am searching for a woman." Before he jumped to conclusions, Gaara decided he would take his mind off of things for a while and go back to visit Sakura and her café. Donning his usual dark colored attire, the violinist grabbed his coat and headed out into the cold with an unusually cordial nod to the doorman.

* * *

Sakura went about her normal routine and was once again elbow deep in pastry dough when Gaara knocked on the door of her little shop at precisely eight twenty-three. Sakura quickly opened the door and let the red head in. "Well?" she asked

"Sure," he answered. Sakura's face brightened with the news and nearly hugged him, but on second thought, looked at her hands and laughed.

"Great to have you on board," she said at last. "I got an apron ready for you if you accepted. It's over there on the counter." Gaara followed her directions and found a small apron that had the words Après Soleíl embroidered in the lower corner of it.

"This is the name this place? It is in French," he stated simply. Sakura nodded from her position with the dough.

"Yep."

"I took the class in high school, but I can only remember that _sol _means sun." He tied the apron around his waist and took a seat on the stool by the cash register. Sakura nodded again.

"It means After the Sun," she said with a smile. "While I was in college, going to be a music major, I had a boyfriend who was a night person, and that sort of rubbed off on me; that's where I got the idea of 'after the sun.' We hosted a bunch of study sessions with friends, and I'd always bake and feed everyone, so that's where my idea of a café started. And since my boyfriend was in dance, mostly ballet, I ended up getting exposed to French and fell in love with the language. Put that all together, and you get—"

"Après Soleíl." Gaara finished.

"Precisely."

Gaara had a slightly nagging feeling that the name of the café related to something that lay at the back of his mind at the moment, but he brushed it off because Sakura asked him something and brought his attention to the real world once more.

"Could you go upstairs for me? I'm about to start a couple of cake recipes, but I need milk for them. I ran out down here and forgot to get some more, but I've got some milk in my personal fridge." Sakura began spooning out cookie batter on the baking trays she had on the counter, and Gaara looked at her with a blank face.

"How do I…?" he began before Sakura pointed to a door beside the ovens with her elbow. He opened it and found stairs that lead up. "Ah… right." He ascended to Sakura's flat and looked around.

The door led into a small living room. The cream colored walls gave the light a warmer feel, making the apartment already more welcoming. He looked left and right and learned that the room branched off in both directions. One led to the kitchen, while the other tapered into a hallway with two more doors. The one at the end was open, giving Gaara a glimpse inside. From the diffused sunlight filtering through the vertical blinds, he could make out a rather large object laying on its side. It looked awfully familiar. He silently padded closer and his view became clearer—the object was a cello.

"Gaara?" Sakura called.

"Yeah, I'm coming." He answered, returning to the task of milk retrieval charged to him. He brought it down along with a myriad of questions. "You play cello?" he asked, his hopes rising a small but very significant amount. Perhaps this was the nocturnal music partner he had been searching for.

"Oh, that thing? Not for a few years. Since college, actually. I pick it up now and again, but nothing major." The baker answered with a wistful smile. She gratefully relieved Gaara of his dairy burden and, after setting her last cookies in the oven, began working on a cake. She did not see the crest-fallen look that now graced the violinist's face. He turned away and went back to the register.

"Of course," he replied simply, not wanting to delve any deeper lest he arouse suspicion. This was not his mystifying cellist. The rest of the day dragged on with him wondering how in the name of the seven rings of Hell he would find this cellist. Apparently, it could not be Sakura, since she was busy running the shop to truly enjoy any time playing her lonely instrument. He could try elsewhere, look into a few music shops for female employees, check the city symphony's roster for their women cellists, ask the management of neighboring apartment complexes for any strings players. Unless… perhaps he was indeed going about this the wrong way and was completely mistaken with his assumptions. Gaara didn't want to admit it, but it was best for him to merely wait and see.

* * *

Author's End Note: I fear this was a bit short, but I needed to get something out for you... I was feeling very guilty for leaving you all for so long. Now all that remains is the traditional plea to leave a review--good, bad, or otherwise.


	5. Chapter 5

To my readers: Once again, I apologize for not updating sooner. Finals are drawing ever nearer and I barely managed to get some time to actually relax. Here is Chapter 5.

* * *

Chapter 5

And so it went.

The twenty third arrived quickly, giving Gaara plenty to think about whenever he was not at Apres Soleil lending Sakura a much needed hand at the flourishing café. At times, he brought books to have, or rather force, Sakura to read. There was no more talk about the woman's cello. He had all but given up on his ghostly cellist.

"Sakura…" Her name rolled off his tongue with increasing familiarity. She looked up from the latte she was preparing.

"Mhm?"

"I must leave soon."

"Oh! Yeah, yeah, go ahead. I've got it covered here," she said with a small smile. "What about you? You've seemed so tense for a while." Gaara gave a non-committal grunt. Sakura laughed, causing the male to look at her with raised brow.

"Oh, sorry," she giggled. "It's just that I'm thinking about my brother… Whenever my ex did that, Aniki would yell at him all 'Don't ignore me, teme!' and then Sasuke would do it again to annoy him… Of course, Aniki wasn't like my brother until after…." She trailed off but regained her happy air. "It's just funny," she finished. Gaara watched placidly; quietly observing this creature before him. Everyday he arrived at the café was filled with her laughter that fell around his ears like the soft clanging of wind chimes. A few times, her giggles were admittedly infectious and he had to let out a few stiff guffaws before lapsing back into his silent repose. The violinist looked at his watch. It was nearly four.

"I am leaving now." Sakura looked up from the box she had just taped shut and brushed away a strand of hair with floury fingers. She closed her slightly agape mouth and picked the pastel purple box up.

"Alright then. Take this with you, okay?" She came closer to him and did not stop until she was tucked neatly under the violinist's chin with her arms around his waist. Gaara was too startled to move away. The baker pulled back, smiled, placed the box in the man's hands and reached up to pat Gaara on the head but stopped. He regained control of his body and silently questioned the woman's antics. She waggled her fingers at him. "Dirty fingers."

"Ah." It was all he could manage before he hustled out of the tiny café.

He had to compose himself before walking into the Jasmine Dragon for dress rehearsal, but his head just would not comply. How could such a small gesture be so confusing and disorienting? It was a hug. Nothing more, nothing less. And yet, that small show of affection threw him in a loop. Affection towards another living thing was a… foreign concept to Gaara. All he ever loved was his instrument—he hardly loved himself. So why was that baker confusing him so?

* * *

"Gaara!" Temari called from the alcove where Naruto, Hinata and an unfamiliar cellist were setting up. He joined them quickly and looked around; the Jasmine Dragon was quite the restaurant. The very rug he stood on looked worth at least half of his Stradivarius, if not more, with its golden dragon on a jade green backdrop. All around was hustle and bustle; people carrying large vases overflowing with ornate flower arrangements, garlands longer than the heights of the people carrying them, candelabras, satin seat covers, and in the middle of all this organized chaos stood a blonde woman and an old man.

The woman looked up from the checklist she and the man were poring over and strode over to the quartet. She shook everyone's hands before introducing herself. "As you should have already figured out, I am Ino, the director of this cotillion. I'm glad to have met you all and I just wanted to say that if anyone here messes up tomorrow, you had better not expect your pay!" She smiled sickeningly sweetly. The old man chuckled.

"She is joking, of course," he said reassuringly. Ino snapped at him.

"I am most certainly not! Everything must be perfect tomorrow because if something goes wrong, the girls participating will not have a perfect ceremony. If it isn't executed perfectly, then they won't be shown off properly. It must be perfect, Iroh, perfect!"

"Nothing is perfect, you know. My neice learned that the hard way," Iroh stated calmly before being interrupted by the breaking of china. Ino immediately flew to the poor busboy's side to reprimand him and Iroh followed to cool the blonde's fiery wrath. Temari took the opportunity to fill in the four musicians with the rest of the gig's details.

"And, because I have to go now, I'm leaving you in charge, Gaara. I mean, you're the violinist!" With that, she left. Gaara turned to his co-workers with an iron gaze and was met with an equally hard gaze. The cellist stood up and held her hand out to greet Gaara.

"TenTen," she said. "Nice to meet you, Gaara. Sorry for missing practice a while back, I had an emergency to attend to at work." Gaara pursed his lips only slightly.

"Right. You have at least seen the piece, correct?"

"Yes," she answered, brushing a stray strand back into her two manicured buns.

"Then tune your instrument." He already had his violin out and began warming up.

* * *

When Gaara arrived at home that night, he was displeased beyond all bounds. His experience at the Jasmine Dragon was disappointing, to say the least. Rehearsal went perfectly, but TenTen was definitely NOT his cellist. She was not even close. Her style of playing was military precision perfect—not the fluid musician that played almost every night. She was brusque with her instrument and had no personal flair. Almost as though she was taught to play by a machine. Truly disappointing to the red headed violinist.

Then to add insult to injury, Ino first confiscated Sakura's donuts and then demanded the quartet to wear what looked and felt like porcelain masks so as to "make them really look just as beautiful as the art they were supposed to play." As if those dressed up horse blinders were necessary. He spent a half hour trying to refuse the masks, but withdrew when his paycheck was threatened. It gave Gaara a migraine.

Luckily for him, there was plenty of tea and literature at home to soothe his angry mind, although then his mind would be quiet enough to resume its musings about affection. And once again, that baker girl came to mind.

"Enough," he commanded. He spread a palm over his weary face and took a steadying breath.

There it was. Just like all the other times. That haunting cello that grieved him so. It seemed to taunt him tonight. Gaara frowned as he had many times before, and out of habit stepped outside with his treasured violin. The wailing sound of his violin melded familiarly with the mourning sound of the cello and drifted off into the night.

* * *

Author's End Note: It seems like I've turned Gaara into a schitzophrenic. Ah well. At least here he has that same quality that made him a hit during the Chuunin exams. Please review.


	6. Chapter 6

To my readers: Not a week ago I had updated, but here is a new chapter! But first...

Saara-chan: I'm glad you enjoy my writing style as well as my original idea. I was tired of reading the same things over again, so I decided to shake things up and submit something new.

Suck-a-Butt: Yes, 'guffaw' is a word because it is onomatopoeia. As long as a word makes sense, I think it deserves to be a word.

Aussie609dancer: Congrat's on noticing that! Yes, Iroh is from Avatar. I couldn't think of a better place for the cotillion to be held, but SHHHHHHHH!!!!! Don't tell Nickelodeon I'm borrowing him for one more chapter!

Machlatte: Skill only comes from experimentation and practice. I read alot, so I picked up tidbits of writing styles from a number of authors.

Popping Fresh: Indeed. I believe that if you're not putting yourself into your art, you might as not be doing anything.

And now on to the story. Please enjoy.

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Chapter 6

Gaara had taken the twenty-fourth off from work at Apres Soleil so that he had all day to relax. It also just would not do to show up covered in flour. In any case, he spent the whole day in his study. At first he pulled down a few books for some light reading; The Mists of Avalon, Plunkitt of Tammany Hall, The Bonesetter's Daughter, and others, but could not concentrate long enough to read any of them. He tried sifting through the internet for something interesting, but failed.

Music called to him. He reached out for his violin but stopped, turned, and looked at the collection of his other instruments that sat out, unused, since the days he had bought them. All of the instruments were stringed, of course, and only one was percussion. He started with that one first.

Slender fingers plunked along the ebony and ivory of the baby grand piano, but the sound was not quite right to him. It did not satiate that chasm that had opened up this morning. He moved on.

Next he tried a guitar, a lute, the harp that stood resolutely beside the window overlooking the city. As expected, nothing worked. There was only one other instrument he had not tried. It was a Stradivarius, like his violin, but this was a cello. He played a note and waited. Yes, yes, that was the sound he was searching for. It was the very rich sound he craved and yet it drove him to the brink of insanity at this point. He rested his head against the scroll and sighed.

The old wood cooled his burning skin but did nothing to soothe his raging headache. The silence that surrounded him and his silent companions was deafening. With another sigh, he gave up. Perhaps a hot shower would do something more for his equally hot temper.

* * *

Gaara arrived at the Jasmine Dragon two hours before the cotillion began and was surprised to see Hinata there already. She sat at a table close to their alcove sipping at a steaming cup of tea. When Gaara came closer and could see around the large vase, he noticed Hinata was not alone. That old man from the day before, Iroh, was chatting amiably with the dark-haired woman.

"Oh! G-Gaara-kun!" she called to him. He attempted a smile and sat down, resting his case at his feet. The old man reached to shake his hand.

"Hello, Gaara," he said. "I was telling Hinata-chan here about my travels, but from your face I can tell you would not like to hear of an old man's recollections. Tell me what is on your mind."

"Nothing," Gaara said gruffly. Iroh laughed and filled a cup with tea to give to the violinist.

"You are about to play for a cotillion run by a Nazi woman who will not pay you if you mess up," the older man said matter-of-factly. "Tell me that does not bother you."

"A-Ano, Gaara-kun," Hinata interrupted gently while putting away her cell phone. The violinist turned his jade eyes toward her. "Naruto-kun will b-be here soon with our i-instruments."

Gaara looked around and realized that was the reason why it was so quiet. Naruto was not there yet. "Hn."

* * *

It was another forty minutes before Naruto arrived with his and Hinata's base and viola. When he stepped into the restaurant, the blonde looked upset.

"TenTen called," he stated wearily.

"And?" Gaara demanded.

"One of her roommates fucking busted her cello."

"And?!" Gaara's grip on his temper was quickly evaporating and the floodgates were about to burst. Naruto sensed this and answered quickly.

"Don't worry about it. I called a friend to replace TenTen, and she's totally able to come and fill in. She'll be here before the thing starts."

Gaara pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply, in an attempt to reign himself in. "Let's hope so," he grunted. "In the meantime, we'll practice." Iroh clapped his hands together.

"Great! I'll get you another teapot."

* * *

It was a few minutes before the cotillion began when the replacement cellist strode in with mask already in place. Gaara glared at her as he tied his own mask on but said nothing. The woman seated herself beside Gaara and automatically prepared herself to play. She tossed chestnut-colored hair over her shoulder and waved to Naruto who smiled and waved back.

Ino came by to wish them luck ("Don't break a leg or else you won't be perfect!") and to cue them in. The cotillion was underway. When the cellist came in to the main piece, Garra choked on his tongue and his bow nearly slipped off the string mid-note, but still he could not be sure. He waited until the piece was over and the quartet had free range of their own music to experiment with this woman. He caught Naruto's eye and nodded toward the buffet table. Surprisingly, Naruto understood the message and took Hinata away to eat, leaving Gaara alone to torment the brunette cellist.

She looked at him from behind her porcelain face, awaiting any orders Gaara might bestow upon her. He begain playing a new piece, something he and his cellist played not too long ago. She matched him. Gaara frowned behind his mask. Of course she would. He had chosen too easy, too simple of a song. Time for something more difficult. Try as he might have, the cellist easily kept up and slid from one song to another; one key to another; one tempo to another. Almost as if she could anticipate his song choice. Back and forth they played, some songs Naruto and Hinata joined in, but most pieces they battled each other through.

Gaara's frustration was growing. Though he desperately wanted to meet that mysterious cellist from the nights of the past year, he could not bring himself to believe she could be sitting beside him, and he had only a few more minutes before the cotillion was over. His eyes narrowed in silent calculation. Perhaps…

He played a few bars of a song that was meant for two violins to play together. Almost immediately, the cellist recognized the song and played the second violin part to perfection with alterations for sections that outranged her mellow instrument. Gaara could have dropped his violin in shock.

It was her.

To save face before approaching her, he finished the piece. However, as soon as he did, he ushered the woman to the kitchens of the restaurant, grabbed her by her upper arms and jerked her around to look him in the eye.

"Who are you?!" he hissed. He could see the fear reflected in the woman's eyes and willed himself to calm down. He released her and slouched back against a counter. The chef gave him a dirty look but Gaara paid no attention. Instead, he untied his mask—it was stifling. Without looking up, he asked her again. "Who are you?"

The woman, confused, answered him with a question of her own. "What do you mean?"

So Gaara told her. Of the cello that haunted him at night, of his frantic search for that ghost, of being unsure about whether he was going mad or not. "Are you her or not?" He asked, his gaze still turned towards the woman's sequin-slippered feet. The equally shimmering dress trembled as the woman untied her own mask and knelt down to face Gaara.

She looked up at him, but her brow instantly creased. "Gaara??"

The violinist was nonplussed as well. He did not know any brown-haired, brown-eyed women except for TenTen, and this woman certainly was not that mechanical heifer. "Excuse me?" he said. The woman turned away to pluck at her eye and came back to the man. On her fingertip was a brown contact lens. On her face was a familiar emerald green eye.

"Sakura?" Gaara asked incredulously. The woman nodded and lifted up the front of what was actually a wig, revealing that telltale rosette hair. The notes on the staff of his thought process melted into ink puddles and ran off the pages of his mind. A million things he wanted to say were rushing to spill out of his mouth and many emotions were bubbling uncomfortably in Gaara's stomach. So he did what any cornered animal would do—run out of the unfamiliar to someplace he could regroup. Sakura was left in the kitchens, hand outstretched in a futile attempt to catch the man.

"Wait!"

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Author's End Note: One of my longest chapters, I must admit. I felt the transitions to be... abrupt unfortunately. Meh. Such is life. Please review.


	7. Chapter 7

To my readers: Forgive me for not updating sooner. There were problems with my parents and well... I won't bore you with details. You're probably ready to read the story now. But first...

I Am The Alter Ego: I began writing this story because there were too many songfics and I had to break the mold. I am glad you enjoy it.

NejiDei-ILY: All I can really say is that I try my best.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed my story. I really appreciate it all. I hope this chapter can repay at least a bit of the debt I feel I am in toward you guys. You, my dear reviewers, really make me want to continue my story until it is complete.

A notice before continuing... This chapter is coarser in language than any other chapter. Just to forewarn you. And now on to the story. Please enjoy.

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Chapter 7

Jade eyes skimmed violently over the well worn pages of Sun Tsu and the Art of War, searching desperately for an answer, some bit of solace to soothe his aching mind. There was none. Nothing on the aged pages was close enough to apply to his situation. Enraged, Gaara hurled the book away from him; over the railing and down, down, down to the street below.

The book fluttered down, pages rustling and cover snapping open and shut, until it fell inches in front of Sakura. It had been a short while since Gaara ran from her and Naruto had a suspicion that he ran home. It looked like he was right. She stooped down and picked up the little book, ran a gentle hand over it to brush the dirt off, and tucked it into her coat before walking into the high-rise.

* * *

Gaara waited for the elevator to come up to his penthouse and when it finally slid open, he panicked and pressed a button for the doors to immediately slide shut. However, a familiar book poked between the doors and triggered them to open once more. The arm holding the book slammed the volume into Gaara's chest and pushed him back into his penthouse.

"Did you lose this again?" Sakura asked. Gaara said nothing but took the paperback and grudgingly led the woman inside. When they arrived in the kitchen, he gestured to a chair and proceeded to make tea. He was brought up with at least a bit of knowledge of entertaining guests; nomatter how much he did not want to face them.

"How kind of you to return it," he growled through gritted teeth. Sakura, by that time, had slid off her coat. His tone immediately set the hairs on the back of her neck on end.

"Just what the hell is going on, Gaara?" she demanded, surprising both him and herself with the aggression in her voice. "One minute you're playing a poor, confused prat, and now you're being an aggravating fuck. What? Do I offend you or something?"

Gaara whirled around from the teapot. "Yes, you offend me," he snarled while taking a step toward her. "Your very existence is offending me. Do you know just how long you've driven me insane with your music? If it's not at night, playing with someone I can't see, then it's in the day, being haunted by the memory of the night before. Feverishly searching for fucking Cellist Cinderella, when, oh! It just so happened I already met her! What's more is that I couldn't even identify you, little Cindy, so while I was barraged by your nightly concerts, I also had to contend with whatever you threw at me at your damned café!" At this point, the violinist had made it across the room to stand centimeters away from the cellist. She stuck her forefinger into his chest and began her rebuttal.

"Don't fucking blame me for your 'perfect life' fettish! If you couldn't handle it I told you! Get the fuck off my staff! But no, because you're Mister Goddamned Gluttonous Bastard, you stayed on. So don't turn your 'suffering, searching prince' shit onto me! I came here to see what your problem was, but apparently it's me! So you know what? Good-fucking-bye!" she jabbed him hard enough in the chest that he took a step back. She used that space to turn and leave when he caught her and spun her back around to bruise her lips with an assault.

The kiss was an inferno. It was far from gentle and nowhere near sexual. Instead it was more of a transfer of his frustration into the very depths of Sakura. The fire of his desperation scorched her from the inside out and burned away the reins on her anger. When Gaara released the cellist, she brought her hand up and punched him right across his face with all she was worth put behind that fist.

"The fuck was that for, you bastard?" she yelled. The man was collecting himself from being punched in the cheek and held a hand to the bruise that was brewing rather quickly.

"You," he breathed.

"Come again?"

"You," he insisted vehemently. "For you, because of you. Now if you don't mind, I may have a broken cheekbone. I'd like to go get it checked out now." He went past her to check his face in the bathroom mirror. She soon followed with a dishtowel filled with ice.

"Come here," she commanded when she succeeded in cornering Gaara in the bathroom. She tenderly palpated his face while ignoring his winces. "No, not broken. Just severely bruised, and a small cut." She shoved the makeshift cold compress into his palm and directed him to hold it against his cheek after she stuck a band-aid over the cut.

"You would know this how?"

"Living with an idiot who doesn't like doctors, but will get hurt on the dance floor or while fighting my brother will train any person into having some medical know-how," Sakura said matter-of-factly as she dragged him into the living room to sit on the couch.

"I'm guessing this brother of yours also taught you how to hit," Gaara guessed. "I'd hate to meet him."

Sakura laughed. "Nice attempt at humor, but you ended up with irony. You already know my brother. Taller than me, blonde hair, loud?"

Gaara placed his free palm on his forehead. "Naruto…"

"That would be the one," Sakura confirmed. She stood up after a minute and stretched. "Mind if I go get out of these?" She gestured to her dress and heels.

"Down the hall, to the right," Gaara automatically answered. Sakura stopped in her tracks and looked confused.

"I was just gonna go home for a change and come back to check on you in the morning, but thanks… I guess," she shrugged. She disappeared for a short bit and did not come back. Instead, her voice floated to him. "Gaara? C'mere."

"Why?" he asked as he began walking toward her voice.

"I need help with this zipper. I can't reach it," Sakura answered. She poked her head out from the study and motioned for him to come inside. "Heh, heh, gotcha."

Gaara was just about ready to begin ripping the music staff of his mind to shreds with how many different signals Sakura was sending him in the past few hours alone, and her pretending to seduce him was not helping any matters. He was rather thankful that she did not need help undressing, however her selection of his clothes to wear was not the best.

The white button-up shirt she wore, though large on her, did nothing to hide her figure, and the fact that she claimed a pair of his boxer shorts sent one of his fair colored eyebrows flying into his hairline. It was very easy for him to see the gentle curve of her rear blend into the firm form of her thighs give way to the high swell of her calves. Of course that was only natural, seeing as she was bent over, looking at a selection of Stephen King novels near the bottom of the bookshelves. It was next to these that she slid Sun Tsu and the Art of War into place. "There," Gaara heard the woman say as she gave the book a last affectionate tap before straightening and turning to face him. "Now, why is it that the great Gaara never told me he was a music aficionado and had a sample of all the popular stringed instruments?"

"…Er," was all he could muster up.

"Because now I am going to have to play the very one that I specialize in," Sakura continued with her hands on her hips. She picked her way between the instruments to the cello and comfortably eased into a melody that dripped from her mind to her fingertips and flowed over the strings.

Given that his violin was left in Naruto's care earlier that evening, Gaara decided to sit and listen. The man took a deep breath and pressed the bridge of his nose. He was still trying to process everything that had happened between the cellist and himself so far. How does arguing, yelling, and in Sakura's case, hitting, yield to laughing, joking, and especially Sakura's case, flirting? How did Sakura come to decide to use his clothes as her own? Didn't she bring a bag or something with her? Couldn't there have been a spare set of clothes there? Wasn't that something all girls did? It was not like Gaara could have forseen a girl coming over to his apartment. And why on God's green earth was his underwear a girl's casual lounge wear?

The bow hit a discordant note and the violinist realized he had muttered that last question aloud. Darn his body for betraying himself so!

"Simple," Sakura began, showing no sign of being shocked at his quiet outburst. "Your sweatpants are way too big for me. I'd trip over them if I tried to wear them. Plus, you don't have any shorts… Or loungewear in general." Her face was screwed up in thought. "You don't relax much, do you?"

Gaara's face was blank.

"Didn't think so." She sighed, set the cello down, and stood up. She grabbed his free hand and dragged him around; first fetching blankets from the bedroom and then spreading them on the floor of the living room. He stared. "Lay down," she commanded wearily.

He did not move.

"Get on the quilt. I'm not going to tell you again." The tone of her voice, though gentle, did not leave any room for questions. He lied down on his back, but by the way she pursed her lips, realized he needed to roll over.

What in hell was she going t—Oh God… Gaara felt her hands on his back support all of the weight she transferred onto his spine and pop, pop, pop! his spine seemed to have loosened a bit although his chest seemed to be crushed. Sakura repeated the process a bit lower each time until she reached his pant line. She moved back up to his shoulders and began working on his muscles, knowing just where to give her attention and how to knead his back. Her hands were like magic.

For the longest time, Gaara could only feel the way his body was relaxing. Even his thoughts were slowing down, transitioning from what could be related as sixteenth notes to whole notes to eight, if not ten, beat long ties. The music of his sense of self was changing from a hectic, complicated melody to the pace of a lullaby. By the time Sakura had finished massaging his back, the violinist was fast asleep.

The cellist smiled at her handiwork, gave a jaw splitting yawn, and all but collapsed from exhaustion beside him. The evening's activities had easily earned the two a good night's sleep.

* * *

Author's End Note: This chapter was difficult to write, for me, and I am not satisfied with the result. However, it is ultimately your responses that will really tell me yea or nay. Please review.


	8. Chapter 8

Thank yous are in order for Saara-dono, blackxrosexpiano93, and I Am The Alter Ego. I appreciate your reviews.

Also, I'd like to apologize for my prolonged silence. There was a matter of school, being sent away for a month, and a number of other things affecting my ability to write. However, I managed to write this for you, dear readers, so please enjoy.

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Chapter 8

The morning sun found a mass of twisted quilt covering a pair of bodies comfortably curled around each other. Sakura was the first to stir with a lazy stretch but was cut short when she realized she was unable to move her right arm very far. Her upper chest region was inexplicably warmer than the rest of her body and continued to be so with a faint rhythmic whisper of hot air. Not to mention, her waist was firmly held in place and there was a slight tickle under her chin. For a moment she believed she was in her ex-boyfriend's home until she opened her eyes. A gentle but unrelenting beam of sunlight illuminated her surroundings and clarified Sakura's location. A glance downward confirmed it.

She chuckled, soft enough to not wake the man, but loud enough to hear herself and settled back down. Moments passed, allowing Sakura a chance to drift between waking and dreaming before she felt her companion's body moving.

He pulled away to see what, or rather who, he clung to so tightly. His vision cleared enough to see that the blouse in front of him was pushed to the side enough for his nose to press against the skin beneath. A scent wafted toward him that could only be described as making him feel inexorably _human_.

"Good morning," he heard from somewhere above his head. He tilted his head up to see the face that spoke to him and saw Sakura. He blanched. "Is your cheek okay?" There was a feather light touch along his cheekbone and when he met her gaze, she smiled sweetly at him.

Gaara was still out of sorts and scrambled away from the cellist, intent on finding a hidey-hole, while the woman busied herself with folding the quilt. He blinked repeatedly, trying to convince himself that all of this was a dream. A very vivid dream in which he had just woken up next to Sakura after…. After what, exactly? There were no signs left over from mindless rutting like there would be in life or in typical raunchy dreams—not that Gaara had any dreams of the sort. So… they had fallen asleep together and that was that. Right.

"Hey Gaara, I'm going to use the shower, alright?" Sakura informed him, definitely making herself at home. He paid her no mind and headed into his study for a book while she went about her own business. After choosing a suitable volume (The Book of Joby), the violinist started the kettle for tea. Settling down with his book, he heard water rushing from the bathroom and wondered vaguely if this was how his blonde friend had it. The comfort of having another presence around, the flat actually feeling alive rather than deathly silent. It was, dare he think it, nice. It was soothing to know he was not the only creature in his living space. He was brought out of his thoughts by the whistle of the kettle.

With a small groan, the man rose, fetched a mug, and steeped a tea flower in the hot water. As the plant opened from its dried state, it imparted its flavor into the water, much like how Sakura had given a bit of flavor to Gaara's life. Speaking of the baker, Sakura calmly grabbed the mug Gaara had just filled, leaving the violinist suddenly tea-less. He was about to protest when he saw the picture before him.

The morning light made her skin glow with more than just the post-shower freshness one would expect and made the little droplets of water that clung to her hair glisten. Her worn yet delicate fingers were wrapped around the mug, soaking in that delicious heat, and her eyes were closed in bliss. She slowly breathed in the aromatic steam that rose to her nose and sighed before drinking. Her whole body relaxed against the counter; the picture of contentment.

Something stirred within Gaara; something he came to realize arose whenever Sakura was around. This morning he was painfully aware of it and could only stare in almost envy at how relaxed the woman before him was. The magic ended with the phone's first ring.

Both musicians jumped at the sound and Gaara quickly snatched his phone up to answer. "What?"

"Oi, lemme up!" _Click_.

"Who was that?" Sakura refilled her cup while Gaara sent down the elevator.

"Do you need to ask?" Gaara inquired. The two could hear Naruto's voice emanating from the elevator shaft loud and clear all the way until the metallic doors slid open. The bassist pushed a violin into Gaara's chest and bee-lined straight for Sakura, lifting her up in a bone crushing hug.

"He didn't do anything to you, did he, Sakura-chan? I'll beat him if he did." Naruto set the giggling woman down so she could respond. She grinned in a way that made Gaara wonder if he needed to buy an airline ticket out of the country in the next five seconds. Naruto cracked his knuckles one at a time until Sakura laughed and placed both of her hands on his.

"No, no, Naruto, he was a gentleman. I'm alright. Did you bring my clothes?" Sakura turned the blonde around and began rummaging through the rucksack on his back. "Aha!" she exclaimed, pulling out a bundle of green fabric. She tiptoed and gave him a friendly peck on the cheek, thanked him, and ran off to change out of Gaara's clothes. The two men were left staring down the other until Naruto spoke. His tone was anything but cheerful and joking.

"She was worried out of her wits when you went running off like that." Gaara said nothing.

"She's been talking about you for ages, nonstop. It's always Gaara this, Gaara that, funny thing happened with Gaara and me," Naruto grimaced. "She only ever does that when she likes someone, and the last time it happened, she got hurt. Bad. And even though you're my friend and all, I'm only going to say this once. Either stay away from Sakura, or do something about her, because I'm not about to have her crying over some emotionless asshole again. Hey beautiful!" he easily switched to his default behavior as Sakura walked out. She plucked at the sundress she was wearing and scowled.

"Why you always want me in a dress? You know it's not practical in the café." Naruto flashed his trademark grin and shrugged.

"Maybe that's why I did it. Because you're always wearing pants. I haven't seen you this adorable since…well….. In a long time, alright?" He had skimmed over the subject of Sakura's ex and quickly changed the subject. "You and I have something to do today, okay?" he said as he all but scooped the cellist up and ushered her out. The doors slid shut behind them and Gaara was alone again.

There was no cello that night. Try as he might, Gaara could not entice Sakura to play with him as they had before and was left playing alone. Haunting and beautiful, the Stradivarius sang out, thick with the feeling its owner could not express. Sweet and sad, it wailed, until at last Gaara could not play any more. He packed it away.

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And that is all for now. Please leave a review before you leave. Thank you!  
Lady Inu13


	9. Chapter 9

To those of you who have waited two very long years for this story to end, my deepest regret and apologies. I will not bore you with menial excuses and I will not delay this last chapter any longer.

Please enjoy.

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Chapter 9

After three, she had decided not to keep track of how many days since she last saw him. If he wished not to see her, who was she to be overbearing and demanding that he do? His life was his life and she had her own life, so if they crossed paths then, well, that's life. Boy was this life monotonous again… She glanced at the clock on the wall. 8:00. Not long until she had to open up shop without him again. A crease formed upon her brow and she finally succeeded in chewing her lip open. She groaned audibly, though no one was around to hear, and snatched a napkin up to press to her wound. The coppery taste of fresh blood tethered her to the here and now for the moment. It was a welcome distraction from the clock ticking away on the wall and the last book Gaara had made her borrow that lay on the table before her.

However, the book's presence jumpstarted a mental to-do list that she would rather eschew. There were bills to pay, the check from the gig to cash, the cello to pick up. She needed to do that last one sooner or later—Naruto could not keep it forever. But since the incident, lack of a better word, she was apprehensive to bring it back home, let alone touch and play it. It seemed bad luck for her. Last time it was with… Oh what did it matter? It would not do for her to live in the past because the two men she was comparing were very different from each other. This time, she was dealing, or rather not dealing, with Gaara. She felt the cello was partially to blame for this. Had she not picked it up again, she would not have played at night nor at the cotillion. Then, there would have been no misunderstanding to take place. Right? He'd be here right now, explaining The Last Oracle to her, getting ready to run Après Soleíl.

She hazarded another glance at the clock and knew she had no more time to rest on the subject. She rose from her seat to greet the morning rush.

It was in the following lull that the phone rang. Heart leaping to her throat, she prayed it was Gaara so she could glean some sort of closure.

"Sakura-chan," Naruto called through the receiver. The familiar voice of Sakura's adopted brother made her knees go weak with a mixture of relief and disappointment.

"I'm worried about him," she immediately admitted with her voice cracking. She could hear the exhaled breath Naruto gave as he registered what and who she was going on about. Still, he tried to avoid the subject and steer it towards an easier topic.

"When's the next time we get to see you? Seems like me 'n Hinata either gotta schedule a day two years in advance or kidnap you like the day after the performance." When there was no indication of Sakura grabbing on to the subject change, he knew he had to help her with this. "From what you told me, he did receive a bit of a scare last week."

"How? What did I do to scare him? I did the same thing I would do for any event!"

"Yeah, put on another persona," Naruto said matter-of-factly.

"And how is that bad? I've been berated too many times. I bought the stuff so it would be less awkward when I go to a show. You know as well as I that pink hair goes against unspoken rules of professionalism." There was a bitter edge to Sakura's voice that came from the many heated debates she had with program directors over what her hair color really was. Eventually she caved in and bought a more "normal" look.

"And then you apparently tracked him down and proceeded to rape him," Naruto snickered.

Sakura was aghast. "I did NO such thing!"

"Ha ha ha! Maybe not literally, but something must have happened to-"

RING-A-LING!

Sakura did a double-take at what she saw standing in her door: there was the man she was so worked up about, holding a rather large, padded object that looked much like a

"Present," Gaara explained gruffly. "For you." He hauled it farther into the cafe after turning the "OPEN" sign around to "CLOSED."

"Sakura? What was that? Are you still there?" Naruto asked on the telephone. Sakura apologized and told him she would call him later. She re-focused onto the violinist.

"Long time, no see," she said with a smile. How else could you greet someone you haven't seen in a while? Gaara gave one of his trademark non-committal grunts and proceeded to unzip the padding around one of the priceless treasures that should have still been in his apartment. "Gaara, what is this?" She was hesitant to walk any closer to it, but the redhead urged her to take it.

"I was acting childish."

"As we all do every once in a while."

"I ran away."

"I gave you reason to run."

"I-"

"Gaara, shut _up_," Sakura urged. She set the cello down and gave him the kiss she had been burning to give him since the last one. "You're entitled to doing stupid shit sometimes. I can't fault you for this time! I realize I probably did some things that were against everything you knew to be constant. _I'm_ the one who should be sorry."

"You can have it only if you promise to play it every night." His eyes were cast to the floor, away from Sakura's emerald gaze. His posture alone screamed the thoughts he was dying to say yet dared not to.

"If this is your way of apologizing, there's no need." Sakura was cautious with her words and gentle with her tone.

He almost looked up in shock because that was precisely what the gift was for. It occurred to him that perhaps this woman had spent so much time with him, reading him was second nature to her. As though he was but a book in a language that it seemed only the two of them could understand. A music book, with still enough space to write the melodies of times to come.

This movement, however, has come to an end.

* * *

Mistress DragonFlame, while I did reply to your admittedly frustrating review when you submitted it in 2009, I hope you see I have clarified at least the disguising portion of my story. Gaara's seat in the lap of luxury will indeed be addressed in the sequel.

Yes, dear readers, there will be a sequel. Hopefully it will not take two years as well. I have been entertaining the thought during my extensive absence. I pray your patience has not worn thin and that you will accompany me into the next "chapter" of the Music Book storyline.


	10. Courtesy Notice for Sequel

Notice to those following "The Music Book":

I noticed most of you have the story alert for this fiction. However, I do not believe you have been notified of the sequel's posting. The first chapter of "The Music Book: Music Theory" has been released, so please find it on my profile.

As always, thank you for reading and hopefully enjoying my work.

-Lady Inu13


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